Turn
by Dinadette
Summary: Commander Fred Waterford never thought he would get to meet someone like Commander George Winslow and get to catch his eye. Yes, it is what you think. Yes, there may be more. No, I'm not sorry. This is literally canon anyhoo.
1. Chapter 1

Winslow - George - is a high level Commander. This is Gilead inside Gilead. Friendship, some vague patronizing from a priggish man who literally would never talk to his handmaid let alone interact. It is all there is, all there can be. Fred has never wondered what the handmaids must be going through, those sinners, before a hand massaged and pressed and forced. Goading him into turning around, his turn to be there, turning him into something unspeakable, so unspeakable it must be in his mind. But then he remembers.

Commander Winslow's attitude, his touch, his gaze. It disgusted him, it had to. Had one of them been a woman, maybe he could have allowed something else to simmer, to trickle in. The billiards, the strong hand literally bending him over the table, and those smiles. _I misjudged you_, the man seemed to say, _I thought we had nothing in common, I thought you have nothing to give_. Fred - he doesn't feel like a Commander in this house, demoted, unmanned - left the room also untouched, but blessing his beard for hiding blood rush. As for the one below… He decided what couldn't be seen, didn't exist. There had to be something about that in the heavily expurgated edition of the Bible men pray from in Washington DC. Handmaids do not pray, as they can neither read nor recite.

He did wonder why Winslow -not George- was so friendly, and above all, was… He would have likened it to himself giving handcream, or a night out, some privilege to a handmaid, hoping for her smile and her mouth. _You're special. Not like those others. I was mistaken about you._ He shivered, nausea and some other feeling coiling. He didn't want to be special in the eyes of this man, even if he embodied, exsuded power, and Fred got hard for nothing if not for power. He should certainly have deflected if not refused, said it was time to go home, to go to bed, to walk in the path of the Lord.

He understands men who love their wife too much to perform with someone else, those who have fun at Jezebel's, even those who enjoy overpowering a young beauty who wouldn't have given them the time of the day before. _Before_. But this Commander, his chirpy wife, the silenced handmaid, mouth closed, eyes dead, is she even thinking, united in a unholy trinity… In fact it makes sense. No sex with the wife, as little as possible with the handmaid disgraced not even on the level of a speaking being, who couldn't tell a soul if someone else was fucking her instead, since she could neither speak nor write. He gasps at his own finding.

Winslow - George - is a high level Commander. This is Gilead inside Gilead. Friendship, some vague patronizing from a priggish man who literally would never talk to his handmaid let alone interact. It is all there is, all there can be. Fred has never wondered what the handmaids must be going through, those sinners, before a hand massaged and pressed and forced. Goading him into turning around, his turn to be there, turning him into something unspeakable, so unspeakable it must be in his mind. But then he remembers.

* * *

google

'The Handmaid's Tale': Christopher Meloni Talks Commander Winslow and That Juicy Billiards Scene (Exclusive)

and

A 'Handmaid's Tale' Producer Hinted That Christopher Meloni's Character Will Have an Affair With Commander Waterford 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Text**

Olivia is the perfect wife. Cultured, classy, and _uninterested_.

Commander Winslow, Fred called him before he suggested first name basis. He made a great mistake: Winslow is a High Commander. Commanders like to feel superior and be on top. They can lord over ladies, Marthas, servants… So does Winslow. And he enjoys the naked power but not the tasteless morsels. Young guardians, drivers showing off, lesser men who would shut up except to say thank you - and for the obvious - suit him. His favorites though… Nothing was more gratifying than the first time he took another Commander. An underling, he thinks as his hands goes for an icy liquor glass. But a Commander nonetheless. Security, younger and fitter and stronger, he could have put an end to it easily had he not _wanted_. Hell. He could have shot him. The mere idea makes him harden and he fingers the glass idly.

There's a knock at the door and he throws a "Come in" after letting _him_ stew in his juice. He only stands when Fred approaches into the luxurious office. Just in time.

They shake hands quick, then George pats Fred's shoulder. They look at each other, appraising, appreciating, before the lesser man - he likes that - averts his eyes. Unman, the would call him if they know, but he feels literally above men at the moment. Some asshole came up with the handmaid situation and he had known fear, a first in a long time. They he came up with mouth rings and silence vows. There is no way the various handmaids he stood above, soft, until he told them fighting off the random household guard that would come in to the sacred bedroom would be like fighting him… He would recoil then, relieved, and let a boy in, watch hungrily as the guard took whatever was his only, his to give. Blessing Gilead for sex separation, male bonding, his friends' total frustration and for putting an end to Olivia's half assed attempts at getting him to 'try'.

"I told you you would like it here". His hand trails over Fred's shoulder, explores his back, lower and lower. Waterford gasps, not quite as amused as in the beginning, but George allows himself more liberties and finds him hard. It makes him think of how he coached the guards through the Ceremony, whispering what to do, hoping there would be enough embarrassment to justify using his hand in between… Olivia sometimes stares, sometimes glares, occasionally chuckles. Even before, she had known… She could understand waiting for marriage but not the lack of impatience on his side, the cold press of his lips on her _forehead_. And then the wedding night, a barely attempted one for sure, until she confronted him and he told her and showed her. She had been the perfect disguise and they had a perfect family. Many people needed to adopt, and close friendships weren't something to be ashamed of. A Commander would be on the wall, already, he thinks. He may have to throw Fred under the bus one day. He would regret his shivers and the taste of his kisses, the stuble against his tongue.

Waterford doesn't close his eyes when Winslow finally goes in the kill, his hand cradling the handsome face. He is much more enthusiastic than Winslow would have thought. He doesn't dare touch him yet, his fists twitching in want.

"No handmaid for you then", Winslow teases, and Waterford tells himself he only means to shut him up when he chases George's lips again.


End file.
